


Beating the Odds: Sparks

by jaythegreenling



Series: Beating the Odds Series [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, First Time, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaythegreenling/pseuds/jaythegreenling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morrigan and Leliana have been together for a while. But what with Morrigan's experiences in the past, it has been hard for the bard to get closer to the mage. This time, however, it seems the witch is willing to succumb to Leliana's advances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beating the Odds: Sparks

'Twas the moment when soft fingertips brushed against her spine. Then she knew that tonight would be different. The bard had spent the night in her part of the camp on several occasions already, but the state Morrigan had been in since coming back had not allowed for anything more than tentative embraces.  
So 'twas when she felt warm digits on her back, that she stayed where she was, on her front, her head resting on her arms, entirely relaxed. She used to flinch at each touch, used to yell at the rogue should she touch her at the wrong time. But somehow the redhead had proven persistent, enough so that the witch had slowly allowed her to take liberties. Fingers had explored her hair, released it from its bun and spilled it all over her neck and face. Lips had kissed her neck and hands, her arms; and on rare occasions, she had even allowed their lips to meet.

A sigh escaped her throat when she thought about all the times she had gone to sleep unsatisfied and yet glad that the lithe human hadn’t pressed the matter. The movements on her back came to a halt.  
“Do you want me to stop?” The tension in the soft voice behind her was easily discernible. How simple it would be to break the woman’s heart; and how utterly confusing that she did not want that.

“No.” How pathetic her voice sounded in her own ears. Barely audible. She closed her eyes in shame, telling herself that the bard had not noticed.

A second hand joined the nimble fingers on her back, and when she felt the strings of her bra being unlaced, her skin started tingling delicately.  
“Mmmmh.” The sound escaped before she realized what she was doing. Blasted human body. It kept betraying her, shivering with need at night and longing for comfort during the day. And now she could almost see the smile on the redhead’s face when curious fingers found the shoulders of her treacherous body covered in goosebumps. Turning her head around, she watched the archer draw circles on her skin for a while, before she lifted her hand and let it rest on an exposed thigh.

Blue eyes lifted to meet her gaze, sorrowful but determined.

“Let me. Please.” ‘Twas hard to nod and her throat was closed, so the witch did the only thing she was able to do: her hand slid up the bard’s thigh, until it brushed against armor. There she grabbed hold of it and pulled the kneeling woman closer, until slim knees touched her left side.

A smile as warm as the sun graced Leliana’s features, and her freckled cheeks blushed bright red. In an instant the clasps of her top were open, and she was lying on her back, not sure how the young woman had managed this feat. Cold air forced her nipples to attention, and the witch realized that the bard’s movement had caused her top to shift just enough so her breasts were exposed. She heard the gulp more than she saw it, and just when she thought the redhead had overestimated her need for the Witch of the Wilds, a single finger brushed against one of her nipples. A gasp escaped her lips, unbidden, undesired, yet utterly satisfying.

One of her hands wandered up to meet the rogue’s, pressing it more firmly into her chest. She needed to feel the bard against her, the warm and callused hands of an experienced archer caressing her own tender skin. And they did. The fabric of her top was quickly pushed aside, and strong hands massaged her breasts, sending bolts of pleasure right to her center. Her pale skin emitted an unearthly glow in the moonlight night, and she knew she was presenting the wanton bard with the most enticing view possible. A wicked smile graced her lips as she realized that the other woman’s breathing had become rather shallow, and she was sure she had heard the word “Maker” at least once. When thumbs closed around her nipples, her attention snapped back to what the bard was doing, and not too soon.

The pinching sensation that shot through her body made her gasp out loud, and she was certain it could be heard throughout the camp. Not that the stupid bard cared about that. A grumbling sound started forming in the back of her throat, and she was about to protest the rogue’s treatment of her body, when warm lips enveloped her left nipple. A yelp escaped her lips, and when a tongue started playing with the swollen nub, Morrigan cursed the blasted bard aloud.

“What do you think you are doing, boy?” Blue orbs met hers, and irritation started forming on the young woman’s beautiful face.

“You haven’t called me that in some time, witch.” Soft lips closed around her breast once more, only to bite down hard.

“Leliana!”

“Oh, so you do know my name after all.” The mock annoyance with which the slender archer spoke infuriated the witch even more.

“It is not I who forgot who you are, dear ranger. You are forgetting yourself.” Her arms closed over her chest, effectively keeping the bard away. ‘Twas then that she realized what was happening. And so did the bard. Freckled hands came to rest on her arms, and then the other woman straddled her hips, forcing her body to stay where it was.

“Morrigan…” The understanding tone the bard used told the raven-haired woman everything she needed to know. It was all she could do not to hide herself behind her hands or her magic. The Witch of the Wilds was not weak. She would not be beaten by a girl of the Chantry.

“I know.” And then the annoying, stubborn, proud and boyish redhead bent down and kissed her. Their breaths mingled for a moment, and then soft lips pressed onto hers; tender, slow. It was all she could do not to respond by sending lightning bolts into the freckled skin. But the longer it lasted, the more she gave in. When her arms opened again, coming to rest on firm thighs, she knew she had lost. And won.

Lips parted and tongues met. And the bard’s familiar voice reverberated in her mouth when she moaned into their kiss. Morrigan’s hands developed a mind of their own, and the troublesome armor and top disappeared and revealed fair skin covered in freckles. Her hands were busy exploring a sinewy body, starting with slender and moving arms, to muscular shoulders and a delicious neck. So busy was she, mapping the rogue’s body, that she did not notice the hand creeping up her leg, brushing aside her skirt. Only when an exasperated sigh escaped red lips, did she notice the bard’s predicament.

“Where does this open?!” The human of course was referring to her leather skirt, securely fastened to leather pants of the same color. Quick hands fumbled through clasps and knots for a time, before they gave up and moist lips captured her earlobe, complaining about her choice of attire.

“I always thought those were chaps…”

“Did you not watch me undress on several occasions? ‘Tis rather obvious, dear.” Red hair tickled her face when the young woman moved, shaking her head ‘no’. An honest smile spread across her lips, and she pulled the bard’s ear as close as possible, when she answered in the raspiest way possible:  
“Pull.”

As quickly as Leliana might have straddled her before, now she was even faster when she got off her, so she could pull on the black leather pants and skirt. Cold air greeted her newly exposed skin, and Morrigan was thankful for the heat currently coursing through her body, as she did not want to attract further attention by lighting another fire.

When the tugging on her pants got more energetic, she tried getting the bard’s attention.

“Dear.” The incessant pulling continued, and another smile found its way onto her lips. ‘Twas confusing, the way her body reacted to this girl, but also strangely alluring.

“Dear.” This time the redhead gazed at her, a guilty look on her face. Embarrassment and insecurity colored her face, while persistent hands kept moving just slightly.

“I can’t get it off…” Usually the mage would opt to tell her about her boots and the clasps that were supposed to be opened. But tonight, her need for the bard had reached a new high, so all she did was flick her wrist, and her boots came off, merely somewhat torn.

The freckled woman at her feet smiled shyly as she removed the pants and skirt together with what was left of the witch’s black boots. Goosebumps covered Morrigan’s skin instantly, and when callused hands travelled up her legs, over calves and knees and thighs, she closed her eyes involuntarily. Too pleasant was the sensation coursing through her body, too intoxicating the shallow breathing of the younger woman. Too… too frightened was the Witch of the Wilds, to do anything but lay there and enjoy. Her breath came in ragged gasps, intensifying when curious digits explored the skin of her abdomen.

“Morrigan…”

“Mmmh?”

She could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her lips; it felt unfamiliar and strange, yet surprisingly right. Soft hair tickled her face when the bard leaned over her, her hands still exploring her body, more insistent now. Nipples turned into hard nubs, and her ivory skin tingled everywhere the rogue touched her. She felt said woman straddle her again, this time with both of them in undergarments, their breasts exposed to the cold autumn air.

“I just… I don’t want you to be afraid.”

Her eyes snapped open.

“I am not.” Red eyebrows shot up, questioning the obvious lie. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She should have known that the bard would not let the topic rest. For a moment she had hoped that their earlier exchange had been sufficient, but clearly she had been mistaken. When the tall woman had told her she knew, her heart had opened, just enough to let her in, enough to feel ashamed of what she was.

“By the Maker, woman…”, was all the archer said before she pressed her lips onto hers, forcing her into a passionate kiss that seemed to last forever. Tongues met and teeth nipped inquisitively on unfamiliar skin.

When they finally came up for air, Morrigan was surprised to find her hands clinging to the young human, leaving angry red marks in their wake. The bard did not seem to mind, so she left her hands where they were; instinctively knowing she needed this form of contact.

“I’m saying you don’t have to be. You don’t have to be afraid.” A lump formed in her throat then, preventing her from speaking. ‘Twas true, she did feel anticipation, and fear, to some extent. But it was also true that she did want this. She wanted Leliana to touch her. She had never deemed anyone worthy enough of that feat, and so she had stayed untouched until now. Her manner and obvious dislike of humans had destroyed even the slightest interest anyone had ever shown in her, and she had been glad for it. For love had no meaning. And giving oneself to another human being for any other reason than procreation, ‘twas a folly she had not dared commit.

Leliana shifted her weight unexpectedly, and all of a sudden Morrigan was engulfed by the lanky figure, nuzzled into by a shakily breathing bard, while strong hands were drawing lazy circles on her skin.

“I want you”, was whispered into her ear, and before she knew what was happening, she felt herself becoming wet, more so than during any of the times she had touched herself. Her breath caught in her throat when one of the archer’s hands travelled ever southward, until it finally cupped her mound.

She dared not breathe.

“I got you. Let go, Morrigan. I got you.” A whimper escaped her lips, and from then on everything changed. Leliana’s hand slipped beneath her undergarments, slipping through the wetness it found there with abandon. The witch resisted the urge to press her legs together and resist the throbbing need in her center. She could not. The murmuring woman kissing her ear and face made her feel complete, and if the price she had to pay for that was her dignity, so be it.

Her eyes flew open, and her hands dug deeper into tender skin when she spread her legs wider, propping one of them up to grant Leliana better access. Said redhead was pressing against the leg that was resting on the ground, and when she felt the moist undergarment of her bard rubbing up and down her thigh, she lost control of herself.

“Get them off. Get them off! Get them off now!” A surprised yelp escaped the ranger’s lungs when a flash of magic engulfed them both and shredded the remaining garments. It surprised her how fast the young woman recovered, for the magic had barely dissipated, when strong arms engulfed both her legs and spread them wide, as Leliana moved between them. The mage felt exposed, this was nothing like taking a bath together, this was frightening and exciting and intoxicating.

A wet mouth enveloped her nipple, playing with it, sucking on it, sharp teeth nipping it… and a loud moan reverberated inside of her.

“I…” What was she asking for, what did she want? She knew, and yet it was so hard to explain. So hard to ask for what she needed, now that she was subject to the bard’s every whim.

‘Twas then that she found out words were not needed. A nimble hand slipped between their bodies, while a shoulder moved slightly, so her leg would not be able to fall back down. She felt lightheaded. Leliana’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, and so was her mouth. Nips and sucks followed soft kisses and licks, and breathing, which turned moist skin into the most sensitive part of her body.

“Breathe.”

She later found that this order had probably saved her life. For when she felt two fingers enter her, with a palm resting on her throbbing bundle of nerves, she pressed off the mattress and into the touch, her mouth wide open in a silent scream of pleasure. Leliana’s lithe body pushed her back onto solid ground, nipples pushing into her sensitive skin, silent moans and murmurs prickling her skin. She forgot about their comrades, about the world outside of their shelter. The bard was inside her, moving ever so slightly; careful not to hurt her, while clearly desperate to go ever further.

Leliana fell into a steady rhythm, rubbing her center with the heel of her hand, while her fingers pushed constantly deeper. The witch couldn’t help it, her hands came to rest on top of willingly presented shoulders, and the moment the bard continued her movement, sharp nails scratched delicate skin, deep enough so there would be marks for days to come. A whimper filled the air, and Morrigan was about to pull back when she heard the sister of the Chantry protest:

“No. Stay.” The air between them was laden with energy, with the mage’s magic coursing wildly through her veins in a way it had never happened before. Sparks erupted from her fingertips, and she felt them enter the bard through her back, causing her to almost topple on top of the witch.

“Andraste’s flames, what are you doing to me, woman?!”

Morrigan almost snickered. She could not explain why she felt so much pleasure at the knowledge of her making the bard lose control. It had taken her some time to admit that the young woman was the driving force in this frail relationship the two of them had. It was her who set the pace, and her who took charge when Morrigan refused to take the next step. She wanted to say something, so the bard would know.

“Lel…”

“Not now, beautiful…” Leliana panted on top of her, the strength in her arms clearly waning, with one of them keeping Morrigan’s leg in the air while at the same time keeping her own body propped up. And the other one was still at work between the witch’s legs, switching from slow to fast in uneven intervals. A groan formed in the depths of her lungs, and the raven-haired woman felt beads of sweat streaming down her face. The feeling of Leliana’s fingers inside of her was more than she could ever have hoped for, and she could feel that she was nearing her climax.

Suddenly everything she could hear was their panting, the sound of the ranger’s fingers exiting and entering her, and the faint whimper threatening to come out any moment now.

“Mmmmh…“

“Not yet, not yet, my sweet!” A frustrated groan escaped her lips when the bard stopped moving her hand, and instead moved in to kiss her tenderly.

She was completely taken by surprise when the slender redhead suddenly curled her fingers and started stroking her inner walls in a spot she had not yet touched before, while pressing her hand harder into the sensitive spot above her opening. Morrigan’s scream was accompanied by sparks and energy bursting from her fingertips, travelling the path of least resistance, entering the archer and shaking her body more than they had done before.

“Aaaaaaaah, Morrigan, what…!” The witch drowned the unwelcome complaints with a passionate kiss, pushing her tongue deep into the bard’s mouth, hoping the young woman would to the same with her fingers.

She did.

The Witch of the Wilds felt the final wave of pleasure approaching her: Her magic intensified and the lanky human on top of her collapsed weakly; showering her neck in kisses and nips while trying to keep up the movement of her hand. Shudder after shudder coursed through the mage’s body, and with each one the bard seemed to slow down, allowing Morrigan to ride the wave of pleasure as long as possible.

A final twitch went through her body, and she enjoyed the soft kiss that followed after. Hands let go of bright red skin, and instead explored more of the woman who had just so willingly taken her to new heights. Eyelids heavy and limbs weak, Morrigan barely noted the soft strokes of the thumb on her mound. Nor did she feel the slight movement inside of her, when Leliana adjusted their bodies so she could lie down more comfortably without removing her hand.

What the mage did notice was the soft whisper close to her ear, just before she fell asleep.

“I’m yours, you know…”


End file.
